


Good Head

by kolibris



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Blow Jobs, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-18 01:54:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18976309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kolibris/pseuds/kolibris
Summary: One day, during lunch, Akira makes Ryuji a simple offer.





	Good Head

**Author's Note:**

> (Apologies to [Turbonegro](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S9Ygn1-l2sM).)

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” Akira says, wetting his bottom lip, mostly out of habit but maybe a little bit on purpose.

It works. Ryuji won’t stop staring. “You sure. You _really_ sure?”

“There’s twenty-two minutes left for lunch. Oh, twenty-one.”

“Okay,” Ryuji says. “Okay. I got a place.”

Ryuji knows everywhere you’re not supposed to be in Shujin. The rooftop was only one of his spots. No one ever checks the emergency stairs either – west side of the practice building, second floor door with the broken alarm. It opens without a sound, and they slip inside with only the briefest of looks thrown their way.

A stairwell isn’t Akira’s first choice, but it’s what he has. It’s loud in here, the click of the door behind them echoing into a deafening slam, and it’s kind of warm too, definitely stuffy, but the concrete feels cool to the touch when he kneels down to the ground.

Ryuji’s knuckles are white on his belt.

“So no one’s sucked your dick before,” Akira says.

“No, man, c’mon.” 

“It’s a fair question.”

“You?”

“Yeah.” His, thiers, whoever’s. 

“ _Damn_ ,” Ryuji says, in quiet awe that could’ve been about Akira’s prowess if he wasn’t tracing a perfect outline of his cock over his pants.

It can’t be a good idea to do this with one of the very few people he knows here. He didn’t learn from the last time he did it, under better circumstances, with closer friends. Oh well – he’s gone from that school, and he’ll leave Shujin too, and in a year’s time he’ll have a clean slate all over again. He’ll never look back.

Yeah, this must be his worst idea yet, because they became something bigger than friends. They’re teammates now, partners; they made a real job for themselves. _Don’t shit where you eat_ , Akira remembers hearing once. He didn’t think much of it at the time – overheard criticism about somebody else’s bad decisions – but later he understood. It was just so easy to take a good thing and fuck it all up. 

Maybe, somehow, the Phantom Thieves will be different.

And then he’ll find himself in the locker room again, shoulder-to-shoulder with Ryuji, sweat-sheened and naked, who doesn’t even notice when his eyes wander down and blow dark and wide, and he’ll think, well, what’s one more try. What’s one more mistake if that’s his reward at the end.

Ryuji suddenly laughs, his voice breaking at the end. His smile’s gone lopsided and insistent. “Sorry, man, it’s just like—you really wanna do this? ‘Cause this is like…”

“Yeah, I do, so don’t worry about it.”

He’s been touching Ryuji this whole time and Ryuji hasn’t stopped him and he’s getting there, Akira can feel him grow under his palm, but they’re almost out of time. No more messing around.

He works Ryuji’s belt open fast, pulls his zipper down slow. Ryuji doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands – awkwardly balled up at his sides, his arms stiff and bent – but his body knows what it’s doing. Legs spreading wider. Hips pushing forward. Easier access.

It’s an opportunity and Akira takes it, scooting in while he digs his fingers between fabric and skin and pulls down in quick, scattered tugs. Ryuji’s underwear catches on the length of his dick and the head bulges up forcefully, obscenely, until it finally slips free and god, thank fucking god, this is what Akira was waiting for. Ryuji is hard, getting harder, and it bounces down an inch from his mouth, and it—

“It looks good,” Akira says, so fucking close he can almost taste it. “You look so good. You ready?”

“Oh my god,” Ryuji just says. 

Ryuji is fire in his mouth, he’s weight on his tongue, he’s salt and sweat and heat all the way to the back of his throat. Ryuji shudders, exhales hard like he got the wind knocked out of him, and Akira feels his hands wrap around the sides of his head. Not pushing – not yet.

It’s a show. Part of what Akira likes is the reaction. Like the throb in his mouth when he surges forward with a thick, sudden gulp. Like when he sucks back slow and tastes a burst of precome on his tongue. When he looks up, he can watch Ryuji’s face and relish how easy he is to read, because all his knit-up eyes and the bite of his lips say is _I want to fuck your face_.

And the sound, yeah, he likes it. He likes it when they’re loud. He likes it when they’re out of control, can’t help the noises they make, the things that they say, like Akira’s got them speaking in tongues. He makes noises too, hummed out around Ryuji’s cock with each bob of his head, lost underneath the wet sound of cock in his throat. And all of it, all of it bounces up and off the walls and booms together into a lewd symphony right into Akira’s ears and he’s changed his mind, the stairwell is very, very good.

Ryuji’s collapsed against the wall now, legs staggered, head knocked back, mumbling “oh, _shit_ ,” on repeat until he pulls at his hair – “sorry, sorry,” he says instead, before he does it again – and he’s guiding Akira’s head lower and deeper while Akira lets him in. His mind is getting fuzzy, hazy, focus sweetly slipping away from everything but this, but he has to hang on for the best part. 

He doesn’t have to wait long. He knows when he feels Ryuji swelling up hot, hotter, yes, almost bursting, _yes_ , his words becoming whimpers, his balls drawing up tight, his hips pummeling in needy, shallow thrusts until come floods Akira’s mouth.

And Akira is hungry, greedy, swallowing down everything he can get.

With that, he’s done. Akira pushes himself away from between Ryuji’s legs and wipes off his fattened lips as best he can, although it doesn’t really matter. They’ll still be obvious enough when he goes back to class to anyone who cares to look. Funny to think that his erection is easier to hide than that. Tucking it up to his belly, it’s out of sight but not out of mind, ready for whenever Akira is; when he gets home, when he locks the stall, when he wakes up loose and dreamy in the middle of the night, until the high is long gone and he knows he’s got to chase it back. 

He stands up to his feet, but Ryuji hasn’t even moved. “ _Akira_ ,” is all he can say. He looks blown away, shell-shocked, like he lost the plot the moment his dick slipped between Akira’s lips and it’s still hanging out, popped-pink and licked clean. But Akira is looking straight at Ryuji’s face, at what isn’t being said. Anything could come out of his mouth right now. Anything. 

Whatever Ryuji wants to say, the bell cuts him off first.

Akira settles into an easy smile. “You better zip back up. Don’t wanna be late.”


End file.
